THE GIFT OF SIGHT

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At this moment I am choosing to see because I know that even if I choose not to, even if I close my eyes or look away, everything will still be there, and if I miss ugliness then I’ll miss beauty, too.More

Salina

Salina

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

Dad had rarely spoken of Salina. Said they’d been poor, and that was that. But once, he told us that his mother, long dead from a drunk driving accident, had been considered the most beautiful woman in Kansas.More

THREE STORIES

THREE STORIES

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All clean rice requires some violence.More

Stranded

Stranded

FICTION by

The mammoth carcass that had washed up from the sea was pearly gray and larger than anything I had ever seen. Not even my school bus would compare. A glimmer of sun glistened over it like the sea’s shedding skin, leaving what remained bound to the beach, wet, bloated, damaged and stranded.More

Spirals

Spirals

FICTION by

I’ve got a small .38 snub nose with a slick oak handle and a silver barrel holstered nice and tight underneath my jeans. I’m going to rob Danny Boy.More

The Righteous Shall Be Called to Dance

The Righteous Shall Be Called to Dance

FICTION by

Harold leaned back into a floating position, his arms outreached to either side. He stared upward at it all. Sunlight. Birds. Clouds. The arc of the universe moving in a torquish progression from one horizon to the other. It calmed him.More

Bum Dog

Bum Dog

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Look here, they seemed to be saying. The man took my balls. I am the last of my line. I am the conclusion.More

Cheeseburger Man

Cheeseburger Man

FICTION by

Because Joe’s refraining from guzzling but is nursing his first, icy, Friday night beer but longs for a serious chug… because he understands that his independent third-grader, soon to be in fourth grade, is eager to impress her old dad… Joe has promised to wait and watch from the Falcon until everything is ready for pickup.More

Pariah

Pariah

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When I was in my 20s I’d think: I can do anything for a year. A year is nothing. I can snort coke every day; I can date a psychotic nymphomaniac. In my 30s I’d think: I can survive on unemployment; I can live without health insurance. I can sleep in my car. Now, a year feels like darkness where there will never be light.More

Art School

Art School

FICTION by

Joan looked different in the dark. Her shadow-self manifested savagery and lust. Neal imagined her as queen of the demon army, feeding off the dark energy generated by the adoration of her legions.More

Selling Hotdogs

Selling Hotdogs

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As another gust of wind blows, I imagine them locked in a passionate embrace. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds. I run my tongue over my lips. The bitter taste of regret and envy continues to swirl inside my mouth.More